“And you knew better than to think the four of you can slip in here for one of your little covert meetings. And since when does the FBI work so closely with spooks?” she shot back, keeping her voice low rather than yelling as she shot Shayne a hard look. “Give me a break here, Khalid. You and my fathers have been conspiring against me from the beginning. And you.” She turned on Shayne. “You have to be sick. I’ve been following you for days and you didn’t spot me once. Where’s your head? Up your ass?”
The small grin that curled his lips assured her that he wouldn’t forget that remark. Not that she gave a damn. He could have gotten his head blown off if she had been the enemy.
“Touche,” Shayne murmured. “Though, I do recall that you excelled in subversive maneuvers during your training.”
“I’m sure there are terrorists out there who excel in it as well,” she informed him. “You haven’t been watching your back. I could have kicked you more than once, and you never knew.”
“Protecting her has suddenly become work here,” Khalid told her fathers, the anger thick in his voice now. “And I am growing tired of this constant tug-of-war between my lover and the men who like to pretend to be my bosses.”
“I don’t need your protection.” Her chin lifted as she faced them all, not in anger now, but in confidence. She knew her training and her limitations, she knew her job, and if there was a single one of them who thought they could change that, then it was time they learned better.
“And if we hadn’t been there to get Mohammed’s gun out of your face?” Khalid raked his fingers through his hair again as his black eyes glowed with anger. “What then, Marty? What the hell would you have done then?”
“We’ll never know, will we? But, he was only seconds from losing his balls when he had that gun in my neck,” she answered, careful to keep her voice cool. “Which raises the question, does Ian Sinclair know he has a rabid mountain roaming the halls pretending to be a man? Or is our fair Mohammed a member here, too?” She stared back at the men glaring forcefully at her. “Last I heard there was some kind of rule against members striking women. Or is that just women who are sneaking in the doors?” She rubbed her jaw. “Can we get him thrown out for backhanding me, do you think?”
She couldn’t have expected what happened next. The second the words seemed to connect in Khalid’s brain that Mohammed had struck her, his fist flew and landed in his brother’s face. A second later his fingers were gripping the other man’s neck as he threw Abram into the wall. Pure rage bled from his pores as an animalistic growl seemed to tear from his throat.
“I will kill him,” he snarled in Abram’s shocked face.
And Marty had had enough. It was like dealing with a bunch of high school jocks. None of them had the good sense to actually face her with the truth, all they could do was hit each other, beat around the bush, and try to pretend they weren’t attempting to hide things from her.
It pissed her off. No one actually lied to her, but they sure as hell did their best to make certain she stayed in the dark whenever possible.
As the other men rushed to pull Khalid back her teeth snapped together as she turned and left the room. Slamming the door closed behind her she was met by an entire security force rushing up the stairs, headed by the formidable and much too handsome Ian Sinclair.
He came to a dead stop and stared at her in shock, as if the sight of a woman in the testosterone-laden halls of his club was too much to take in, which was far beyond the truth. His wife, Courtney, actually managed to sneak in often when she had lived in what had once been Ian’s private wing of the house.
“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” she informed him coldly. “If I were you, though, I’d get some cameras in these halls and the shrubbery trimmed from that back doorway. Getting in here was as easy as taking candy from a baby while it sleeps.” She brushed past him before taking the stairs quickly, aware of all the eyes turning, watching her.
Below were more men. All security. The doors were closed securely to the rooms downstairs, but a few of the members watched curiously from their positions leaning against the walls.
There was Cole Andrews, Tally Conover’s husband, Lucian, her rumored cohusband Devril, and several others of the social elite, who seemed unconcerned by the fact that she had seen them. Men she had danced with at balls, whose wives she had gone to school with or sometimes lunched with.
It wasn’t surprising. She had known this crowd stuck together, but this should have been ridiculous.
“Sorry to intrude.” She flashed them all a tight, falsely sweet smile. “See you at the next party.”
With that she strode down the hall and out the double doors that a scowling doorman was holding open.
She had no intentions of returning to the limo. She would have walked home first, but, thankfully, a black Lexus that drew to a stop in the driveway was very familiar to her.
Former FBI agent Mac McCoy. That really shouldn’t have surprised her, though it did. Mac was married and supposedly living on some farm several states away.
He stepped out of the vehicle, his gray eyes meeting hers as the breeze played with his thick black hair.
“Marty?” Incredulity filled his voice, affirming her sudden suspicion that he knew exactly what this club was all about. Of course he did; he was here, and that meant he had to be a member.
“I need a ride.” She moved quickly to the passenger door. “Please, Mac, kinda quick, if you don’t mind. Take me to my parents’ place.”
He slid back into the car as she opened the door, and jumped in. A second later he was speeding away from the front doors as Khalid and Shayne stood framed by the light behind them, their expressions filled with varying degrees of anger, concern, and frustration.
The Lexus sped from the club grounds as silence filled the vehicle. Marty felt the heaviness in her chest as it expanded, filling her, sinking into her muscles and tendons, making the depths of her soul ache.
She was a trained agent, just as she had stated. She had learned not just to look for lies, but to live a lie if she needed to. She had known Khalid and Shayne were hiding something, but she hadn’t really expected her fathers to be involved in it.
“Strange, I can’t remember ever seeing a woman walk out those doors,” Mac commented, as the car turned toward Alexandria and her parents’ home.
There was a note of curiosity in his tone. Mac had been a formidable agent during his time in the FBI. Strange, she had never imagined that he could be a member. There were times he had seemed so straitlaced and aboveboard.
“I’m sure you’ll never see it again,” she reassured him, as she crossed her arms and rubbed her hands up and down them quickly.
She felt chilled to the bone despite the summer heat. Emotion had forced her to flee, but she knew she should have stayed. She wanted to know what the hell was going on, and why Abram Mustafa, a suspected terrorist sympathizer, was meeting secretly with her fathers as well as with Khalid and Shayne.
She had known Khalid was involved with whatever Shayne was up to. She should have realized it went much deeper than she had suspected. She had assumed he was helping Shayne with his operation, but she hadn’t expected her fathers to be in on it as well.
Khalid could claim her. He could fuck her. But he couldn’t sleep through the night with her, and he sure as hell didn’t bother to talk to her. God forbid that he should have to lower himself so far as to explain his actions to her.
“Shayne and Khalid didn’t look happy,” Mac commented a moment later, when she said nothing more.
“That so bothers me.” She shot him an instant glare. He was a man, a member of the club, and therefore most likely in on whatever conspiracy was currently ruling her fathers’ lives.
“I can tell.” He nodded seriously, as though he weren’t being completely facetious.
“You’re a member of the club,” she stated.
“Not me.” There was a hint of laughter in his voice now. “I was meeting friends for drinks.”
“Only members enter.” She glared at him for lying to her.
At that, Mac shook his head. “Or former members. I was truly meeting friends for drinks, Agent Mathews, nothing more. And ended up playing white knight.” He flashed her what she was certain he thought was a charming grin.
Marty clenched her teeth at the humor. Amusement wasn’t high on her list of priorities tonight.
“Let it go, Mac,” she warned him. “I’m not in the mood.”
“A white knight’s job is never done.” He clucked his tongue as he shook his head and glanced back over at her. “Strange, I didn’t imagine Khalid could get himself in so much trouble with you. I think he’s been claiming you for so
